


Rebecca - French Toast

by Tennyo



Series: Hunter Side Stories [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Gen, Not A Happy Ending, Pre-Season/Series 04, Set in Canon Universe, Vampires, Western Washington, abductions, mentions the books and events from the series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 23:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2791106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tennyo/pseuds/Tennyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People are going missing. The bodies that show back up are labeled as animal attacks by the local papers. But there's something off about it.<br/>Rebecca is on the case, and ends up needing a temporary partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebecca - French Toast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BeccastielDW](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeccastielDW/gifts).



> The first in a series, this is a gift for a friend.  
> The time setting is August 2008, just before Season 4.

“But doctor, he’ll die if he doesn’t get that transplant!” pleads a nurse with dark hair twisted into a bun at the back of her head.

The doctor, his long, brown hair framing his face, and rugged, stubbled chin jutting out stubbornly, turns to the nurse with a determined expression. “If I do the transplant, it won’t solve his issues. He’s a drug abuser, Nurse Baudin. All the transplant will do is prolong his addiction.”

He turns to walk away, but the nurse reaches out and spins him back around, his white coat flaring dramatically.

“So you’re going to play God now, doctor? What gives you the right to decide who needs saving?”

Her strong emotions bring out a slight French accent in her voice. They glare at each other, locking gazes, until…

“Cut!”

The two people relax their stances, and turn to the camera backing into its original position. The man who yelled ‘Cut’ strides toward them with a grin on his face.

“That was great. Steve, you get ready for the next scene, and we’ll meet at stage C in ten.” He turns to the nurse, “Nice going, Miss Alledra. Letting the accent slip was a great touch.”

The woman in the nurse uniform grins widely at the praise.

“I don’t think you’re in the script again until episode five, correct?”

She nods and says, “Yes.”

“Then stop by casting to pick up your schedule and script. I believe Bob’s directing that one.” With a nod, the man turns on his heel and starts speaking into the microphone on a headset resting around his neck.

As the crew begins to swarm the set, Miss Alledra turns to the man dressed as a doctor. When she speaks, her accent is much thicker than it was in front of the camera.

“Mr. Bacic, as usual, it is a pleasure working with you.”

He gives an easy smile and says, “Rebecca, you can call me Steve, you know. I know we don’t work together often, but you’ve been here on and off for what, almost a year now?”

She nods, and he claps her on the shoulder. “Well, I’ll see you the next time we need Nurse Baudin’s fiery brand of medical justice then.”

As Steve walks away, cowboy boots noisy on the floor, Rebecca’s shoulders droop and she heads to Wardrobe to change out of her nurse outfit.

\- - -

Half an hour later, Rebecca steps onto the sidewalk outside WC Studios in Vancouver. Her long, dark brown hair swings behind her as she strides toward the nearest bus stop to catch a ride to her apartment. Her next scene is a couple episodes away, so that gives her at least two weeks down time. She’s been playing a nurse that show up in most, but not every episode of Dr. Sexy M.D. since last July. She was lucky to get picked up as a semi-regular cast member on the show with very little background.

While she waits for her bus, Rebecca scans through news headlines on her phone. Ever since the Winchesters opened that damn Devil’s Gate last May, there has been an increase in demonic activity all over North America. She had decided to come from France to help with the problem, since she has a personal grudge against demons. Right now, she’s starting to develop a grudge against the Winchester brothers.

It’s interesting, she’d never even heard of them until one day while browsing a second-hand book shop in Vancouver soon after moving there, she’d stumbled across one of Carver Edlund’s books. It happened to be _Phantom Traveler_ , and the story reminded her of actual events that she had seen on the news about three years ago. It didn’t take long to research the story and to find out that the plane crash in the book was frighteningly accurate to what actually happened.

So she’d gotten all the Edlund books she could find, and linked the Skinwalker story to a real event in Saint Louis as well. And that’s not the only book that had actual news proof that matched the story. If the stories in the books were true, then the brothers in the books were Dean and Sam Winchester, notorious criminals. Rebecca wonders how they’ve been able to avoid capture for so long.

The bus arrives and she straightens her short denim skirt, swipes her bus pass, and finds an empty seat. During the ride home, she finds an interesting news story about animal attacks in Western Washington. The case seems… odd. It doesn’t look like demons though, and normally she’d pass on it, but it’s near Bellingham, which isn’t that far a trip across the border. Rebecca has a couple of weeks to kill, and no auditions planned for the near future. Looks like it’s time to dig out the passport.

\- - -

The next morning, Rebecca is at the Pacific Central Station, waiting for the train that will take her to Washington. She has an oversized handbag and small, soft-shelled suitcase with wheels that will fit under her seat. A hunter has to pack light when taking public transport, and she has to make sure if she’s searched, they won’t find anything too suspicious. If she does get searched, there’s a lined false back where she hides her throwing knives. The silver blade she always has on her is strapped to her ankle, hidden by tasteful but functional boots.

It’s late August, so the floppy hat and sunglasses she wears go unnoticed, and her sundress offers enough cleavage to distract most of the security guards on duty. When the train arrives, she makes her way to a window seat in the very middle of a train car. Once settled, she plugs earbuds in to discourage chatty neighbors and pulls out  a well-worn paperback she found during a recent book scavenge.

It’s a two hour train ride, and when they arrive, Rebecca waits for the more impatient passengers to clear out before she gathers her things and steps out into the small station, the sun still bright in the late evening. A quick cab ride to a small motel, and visit to the closest diner, and she’s settled on her bed, carefully pulling back the lining of her suitcase and removing her weaponry.

The knives are plain, matte black with sigils hand-carved into them, and Rebecca efficiently slides them into their carrying pouch before tucking everything away where a nosy cleaning lady won’t stumble upon them. Tonight, she’s going to get a good sleep, and tomorrow will be spent researching and figuring out where she can get extra supplies while she’s in town. There’s not much on TV, and the motel’s WiFi is crap, so she turns on the news as she settles in with the local yellow pages.

\- - -

Early morning, Rebecca heads out dressed like any young adult during late summer. She’s wearing denim shorts, a print tee, those large sunglasses again, and her long hair is pulled back into a ponytail as she goes to the local library. There, she takes advantage of their computers, and searches local news for info about the attacks.

Unfortunately, the local papers aren’t much more detailed than the more widespread stuff. However, there is a pattern, and she tracks missing persons and bodies discovered all the way to early spring. It’s been mostly college students, with more locals disappearing after the University let out for the summer. She needs to look at the records of the victims.

By eleven, Rebecca has changed clothes and is in front of the Whatcom County Health Department. She changed into a gray summer suit, with medium heels, a knee-length pencil skirt, three-quarter length sleeved jacket, and  a white button-up blouse. With an air of confidence, she walks in and asks to be directed to the Medical Examiner’s office. The person behind the desk asks if she has an appointment, and she says yes, fully knowing she has to bluff through this. When the desk-jockey can’t find the appointment, Rebecca acts completely put-out, that her professors at the university had promised her time with the records for her internship. She knows that the staff are getting ready to go to lunch, and if she’s lucky, they may offer free access to the Medical Examiner’s files.

After some stellar acting as a completely desperate student working on an important research project, she’s finally shown to the Medical Examiner’s office where a young man in light blue scrubs is typing away at a desk. Oh, yes. This is perfect. While the bosses are out, the assistants enter data before they get to go to lunch.

Rebecca puts on her friendliest smile, leans forward a little more often than necessary, and gets access to the files she needs. Most of the victims she’s interested in actually washed up on the shore, with only a few having been found in the woods. The assistant M.E. offers to make copies of the files, and she gives him the sweetest, eyelash fluttering smile and thanks him, hand on his forearm and brown eyes wide. Poor boy almost trips over his own feet.

Half an hour later, Rebecca’s on her way back to the motel, a stack of papers under her arm. After a quick lunch, she settles in with the files of the victims. There’s one thing in common, they all have been severely mutilated. The floaters were too badly bloated to get much information, but all their throats had been torn out. The ones found in the woods had been exposed for several days, but their throats were also ripped open, as well as their abdomens. M.E.s were unable to discern what had done the damage, although they could tell that scavengers had taken advantage of the eviscerated corpses.

Rebecca’s chewing on a Rolaids, trying to settle the queasiness at the thought of all these people getting torn apart, when she notices a detail in a close-up of a victim’s neck. It’s barely visible under all the extraneous damage, but she’s seen it before. That’s a vampire bite. Damn it. There’s an active nest here. She can’t do this alone.

A couple of phone calls later, and she’s waiting to find out if there’s another hunter close enough to help deal with this. God, she hates working with hunters she doesn’t know. Especially males, because they always think they know better and try to protect her. Eyes rolling, she flops on the bed and stares at the ceiling. Time to go find some decent WiFi.

She manages to find a little restaurant that doesn’t reek of brewing coffee, and settles down with a slice of mixed-berry pie and a glass of strawberry lemonade. Better to pay for something and not piss off the staff, so she can stay longer. Besides, who doesn’t like pie? An hour and a half later, she’s getting weird looks, so she leaves a decent tip and tucks her laptop under her arm before stepping out into the late summer sun.

It’s not until around eight in the evening when she gets a call. A hunter by the name of Marcus has agreed to help out, and should arrive either late tomorrow or early the next day. Great. A man. At least she’ll have the time to get geared properly.

The next day, Rebecca hits up every thrift store and pawn shop she can easily get to. She comes away with a pair of hiking boots and some disposable clothes useful for getting dirty, torn, or bloody. One pawn shop had a decent hunting section, and she picked up a bow and some arrows. the local Army surplus had a decent machete, and that’s what she’s sharpening while watching people try to get through a ridiculous obstacle course on a show called Wipeout.

\- - -

A persistent banging jolts her from sleep, and it takes Rebecca a moment to to focus on the red LED numbers on the nightstand. It’s 4 AM. Ugh, what tool bangs on the damn door at four in the morning? It turns out that tool is the other hunter, Marcus. Was this asshole raised in a barn? He’s going to wake up half of the others and get management on her. Even though he’s being loud, she still insists on testing him, and makes him slide his hand in the gap the chain leaves so she can splash some holy water and nick him with her silver blade.

When she opens the door, the man in front of her is only a couple of inches taller than her, and considering she’s 5’9”, that’s not too shabby. He’s got shaggy blond hair, and a nose that has very obviously been broken before. Holy crap, he kind of looks like Owen Wilson. She lets him in, and locks the door behind her.

“So,” she starts, while he takes in the room,  “Are you always this noisy? Because if you are, I don’t think you’re the right hunter for this.”

He shrugs and flops down into a chair, “Listen Sweetheart,” Oh God, not one of those guys. “I wasn’t about to sleep in my truck while you get your beauty rest.”

Rebecca’s back stiffens and she crosses her arms. She doesn’t like this guy. they’re going to have a problem. “I hope you don’t expect to sleep here.”

Marcus rolls his head on his neck. “God, no. I’m gonna get a room later so I don’t have to pay for this morning.”

Some of the tension creeps out of her, but she’s still on guard. “What do you suggest we do? It’s still four…” She glances at the clock, “thirty in the morning.”

“Any place open to get breakfast?”

A little after five, they’re seated at McDonald’s, and Rebecca’s watching Marcus inhale a McMuffin. She picks at her own parfait, listening to the sounds across the table. The smell of coffee filters through the place, and it completely shuts down what little appetite she still had. When he’s finished devouring his breakfast sandwich, Marcus pops the lid off his coffee and slurps noisily.

“So, whatcha got so far?”

Rubbing a hand over her face, Rebecca gives up any pretense of reclaiming her early morning. She goes over what’s been discovered so far, about the bodies in the water and the ones in the woods. The hard part is going to be where the nest is holed up. He asks about the missing that haven’t turned up yet, and she suggests either their bodies have been hidden better, or they’ve been turned.

They’re on the way back to the hotel in Marcus’s truck. It’s an F-250 extended cab truck, and it looks like he regularly goes mud racing in it. It might be painted gray under all the dirt and grime, but she’s not sure. While Rebecca’s trying very hard to not identify an odd odor, Marcus speaks up.

“So… what’s the ratio of female to male victims so far?”

Rebecca glances at him in surprise, “Umm, I will have to check to be sure, but maybe, two to one?”

He nods and asks, “And the missing?”

“Hmmm… Mostly male I think?”

That makes him frown and grumble until they get back into the motel room. It’s still too early for him to check in, so they start going through files. There _is_ a pattern that she hadn’t noticed before. There are more females in the dead pile, and more males in the missing.

“What’s your theory,” she asks.

“Well, my niece is crazy over this book series…”

No. Nonono. “Please don’t say Twilight.”

“Okay, then.”

They sit in silence for a moment, before Marcus says, “She says there’s going to be a movie.”

Damn it. “Just because we’re in Western Washington does not mean this is related to that book series.”

Thankfully, most of the damn movie coming out in November was filmed in Oregon. Rebecca looks up to see an odd, yet amused expression on Marcus. “What?”

“I’m just surprised, is all,” he says with a wry twist of a smile. “I thought ladies just loved that book.”

It’s not that bad of a book… Rebecca tries to explain that what she’s seen of the movie so far, thanks to contacts in the industry, and it completely changes the dynamic of the characters in the books, and that it will seem to romanticize abusive relationships. Not to mention the way the screen writers changed the story. She’ll admit it wasn’t very well-written, but the screen adaptation, or what she’s seen of it so far, looks much worse.

“Okay, hold your horses, feminist warrior. Regardless, we got vamps snatching people up. let’s just keep our minds open. Can we do that?

Rebecca nods grudgingly.

“Good. Now, you got a topo map of the area?”

They spend the rest of the day going over maps and property records. During their search, they find a couple of potential areas, mostly around Lake Whatcom. Considering the bodies have all been found in different areas, the killers must have access to both land and watercraft, as well as a working knowledge of the surrounding area. After double checking access routes, they settle on the southern end of Lookout Mountain, which has access to the interstate and Whatcom Lake. There’s a large parcel of wooded land that has a barely discernible dirt track running through it, and the satellite map shows what might be a building.

It’s dark by the time they finish settling on a plan, and Marcus goes to his own room. After straightening up a little, Rebecca gets in the shower. Marcus has a spare gun she’s going to use, as well as some dead man’s blood. Trying to get a local source can raise too many questions, so it’s good that he brought a supply.

While scrubbing shampoo into a lather, she thinks about how Marcus is actually a decent guy. He hadn’t even questioned her ability to use a handgun, but had wanted to make sure she knew how to load the one he was loaning her. Leaning into the spray of the shower and washing away the suds, she wonders how he ended up becoming a hunter.

Every hunter has a story. It usually involves loss due to supernatural forces. She had led a relatively normal life growing up, and at sixteen, growing up in Saint-Raphael, France, she felt that everything in her life was going to stay that way. But everything had gone wrong. There was a friend, a sweet, thoughtful boy she had known while growing up. Rebecca never wanted to admit it, but he had a bit of a crush on her. Almost overnight, he changed. But she stuck with him, hoping he would return to his old, lovable self.

But then one day, she met him outside of a church where she had just been praying for him. Hand still wet with the holy water she had crossed herself with, his skin sizzled where she touched his wrist, and he jerked away from her, eyes completely black. She had been so shocked by the experience, he had almost convinced her it was her imagination. Even so, she knew that something was wrong with him. She’d gone to the priest, and after a rather awkward confession, where she tried to ask about what was happening without sounding crazy, he had suggested keeping a vial of holy water to protect against evil. The next time Rebecca and the boy met, she had that small vial of holy water in her pocket, and touched the wet tip of a finger to the back of his neck. It seemed to burn him upon contact.

That day, he threatened her, promising to kill everyone she loved if she told. Rebecca agreed, fearful for her loved ones, and not knowing what to do. It’s one thing to say you feel someone is being affected by evil, yet another to claim they’re possessed. A week later, he disappeared with another girl in town, who had also been acting strange lately. A story began to be told that he had gotten the girl pregnant and they had eloped together, but Rebecca knew better.

Ever since then, she had thrown herself into studying more about demons and the forces of evil in the world. Interestingly enough, that same priest she had confessed to, handed her a very old book about demons, and exorcism. If only she had the courage to say something, perhaps she would have gotten her friend back. Determined to never let something like that happen again, Rebecca began meeting with the priest to learn more. He introduced her to a small group of hunters with a small farm near La Tour de Mare. They helped her learn about creatures she had previously thought were only fantasy.

Unfortunately, her family couldn't understand her new purpose and drive. They saw the way Rebecca began hanging out with people of dubious reputation, and how her interest in school began to wane. After graduating from lycèe, she was expected to go to university, get a regular job, find a good man to marry. But after what she had learned, how could she just continue living a normal life,  pretend these things didn't exist? The decision to leave home wasn't easy, but fully immersing herself into the hunter life showed her so much more, and she wandered Europe fighting monsters.

After the shower, Rebecca steps out of the bathroom with a towel around her head, draped in an oversized t-shirt, sleep shorts hidden underneath. She flops down on the incredibly loud, tacky, patterned bedspread that looks like a reject from the ‘80s. Once she’s comfortable, she picks up a book from the nightstand and opens it to where she’s got it bookmarked. It’s the newest Supernatural book, _Mystery Spot_ , and it’s… strange. She’s not very far into the book yet, but Dean’s already died twice. This one can’t be real like the way the other books have been, it just can’t. It’s too weird. What the hell causes a Groundhog Day effect? After a couple of chapters, she calls it a night.

Far too soon, Marcus is banging on her door again. “Time to get up princess, or we’re going to waste daylight.”

They sort their gear, divvying up the load they will carry. Once ready, they pile into Marcus' truck and head to a diner to eat as hearty a breakfast as they can manage. It's going to be a very long 24 hours. Rebecca is looking over the laminated menu trying to decide if she wants hash browns, when Marcus snickers from across the table.

“What?”

“I think I know what you should get.”

“And that is?”

He turns the menu around, and points to a stack of fried bread slices. “French toast.”

Rebecca rolls her eyes. “You realize it’s not really French, right? And we don’t eat it for _breakfast_.”

She raises her menu and ignores him when he orders his own plate of french toast.

After their meal, they drive out to the base of the mountain, and find the dirt road that will hopefully take them to the vampire’s nest. About halfway there, a fork blocked by a gate indicates what is most likely the direction of their goal. Marcus drives a little further down and carefully navigates his truck off the road to keep it mostly hidden.

Hoping to pass as a couple of hikers, they keep to the woods, staying in sight of the dirt path. They stay silent during their trek, not wanting to draw attention in case there’s a lookout. After about forty minutes in, following the winding path up the mountain, they spot an innocuously beige SUV with a small boat hitched to it. They carefully maneuver deeper into the forest, looking over the buildings now in view. As they encircle the site, there’s what looks like a small, rundown hunting cabin with weathered siding, a sagging porch, and loose shingles. A short distance away from that is a small shed, and upon getting closer, they can see the shiny new hinges and a hefty padlock on the door.

Gee, wonder where they’re keeping their victims?

The cabin has either blankets or heavy curtains over its windows, and nothing seems to be moving around. For now. Even so, you never know if there’s a day guard inside, and they don’t want to get scented, so they keep their distance. Before they go busting in, it would be nice to know what they’re going to have to deal with first. How many vamps make up the nest? Do they currently have any living victims?

Retreating deeper into the forest and finding a small clearing, they share a small lunch of bottled water and some jerky. Marcus hands Rebecca a can of unscented baking soda based deodorant, and she sprays herself down with it. Then he gives her a bottle of something that reeks of pine and dirt. He tells her to just give it a couple squirts, as he starts spraying himself down with the deodorant. All this is supposed to cover their own human scent, but she hopes the scent of their deodorant doesn’t tip off the vampires, because it certainly doesn’t smell like this in the woods naturally.

They had checked the weather report earlier, and they now hope the wind direction stays steady as they find a place downwind of the cabin to set up a tree blind. Rebecca had asked earlier why Marcus had insisted on bringing the small collapsible platform, and he had insisted that if the vamps go patrolling, they’re much less likely to be noticed up in a tree. That sounds _so_ reassuring. This all has way too many variables for her taste.

While they wait, they play a few games of cards, Marcus naps while Rebecca reads some Stargate fanfiction she’d saved on her iphone, and it’s altogether very boring. Why did they have to show up so damn early? Late in the evening, with the sun low in the sky casting a golden glow over the forest, Marcus nudges Rebecca awake from where she had been dozing. He gestures toward the cabin with his binoculars, and she raises her own pair to watch someone unlock the shed and disappear inside. Moments later, they emerge dragging a young woman, her hands bound, into the cabin. Looks like it’s time for vampire breakfast. The thought makes her stomach turn.

She tenses to get up, but Marcus places a hand on her arm and shakes his head, as if he knows she wants to go down there. Right. As much as she hates knowing they’re probably going to drain whoever they dragged in there, she has to sit still, follow the plan. Rebecca scowls and settles back in to wait. She hates it.

An hour later, when everything is tinged blue with deepening twilight, a group of three leave the cabin, carrying what is probably either the girl they brought inside earlier, or the one she replaced, wrapped up and bound. They load the body into the back of the SUV, and then get into the vehicle. They start the engine and wait. A minute later, another figure appears, gets in the front passenger side seat, and they maneuver the SUV, boat still hitched, down the mountain.

Once the vehicle is well out of sight, they creep down from their blind and make their way to the cabin. They move forward on silent feet, unsure if there might be another vampire guarding the place. By the time they reach the building, there’s only the faintest light left in the sky. Marcus touches her shoulder as a way of telling her to wait and he sneaks around the corner for a peek. There are no lights in the cabin, but Rebecca can just make out the sounds of muffled crying inside.

When Marcus returns and makes to head back into the woods, she grabs his shoulder and leans in to whisper. “Someone’s alive inside.”

He drags her back into the woods, before rounding on her, whispering loudly. “I know that, but there’s another one guarding her! What did you expect me to do?”

The moon is fat and waxing gibbous, and it filters at an angle through the trees, highlighting his features. She just stares back at him impatiently.

“Are you saying we should completely jeopardize catching all of them because you heard _crying_?”

Her shoulders slump in defeat, because he’s right. As they make their way back to their hiding spot, a snapping twig off to their right makes them both freeze. Marcus carefully draws his pistol as Rebecca draws her machete from its sheath. They position themselves back-to-back and hold still, ready for an attack. Half a moment later, the silhouette of a small animal lumbers into view, and they relax. It’s a raccoon. They’re not really known for their ability to be quiet.

Marcus puts away his gun, and Rebecca’s preparing to sheathe her blade when out of the corner of her eye, she sees a dark figure moving incredibly fast towards them.

“Marcus!” she cries, swinging her machete up to slice open the chest of the vampire that was rushing them. It falls to their feet, and she swings again, lopping its head off.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he hisses, lifting the severed head.

“Is it the one from the cabin?”

“Yeah, we need to hurry, we gotta evacuate any survivors.”

They rush back to the clearing, and they yank open the now-unlocked front door of the cabin. Inside is pitch black, but the frightened scream of a female has Rebecca reaching for her flashlight with her free hand. After clicking it on and sweeping it low, she finds the woman that had been brought in from the building earlier. Her neck is bandaged, but red is seeping through the gauze. Hands tied above her head, a young woman with olive skin and black hair sags against her restraints, sobbing.

“Please, no more.”

Marcus rushes forward to cut her free as Rebecca examines the cabin. There are sleeping bags on the floor, and a couple of ratty mattresses in the corners. The smell of the place tells her the vampires have been nesting here for a while, but they’ve been keeping it relatively clean. And yes, vampires have a smell. It’s kind of like spoiled meat, or an old menstrual pad. It’s normally faint, but if they nest in one area for a while, it becomes more noticeable.

When the girl is freed from her bonds, she collapses, and Marcus leads her to a chair. Rebecca pulls out a mostly full bottle of water, and gives it to the girl, tells her to take small sips. The poor thing’s hands are shaking.

“Hey,” Rebecca looks up into her eyes, “Are there any more of you? Out in the shed?”

The girl nods once, and shakes even harder, and begins to sob again.

Rebecca places a hand on her knee. “Shhh, it’s okay, we’re going to get you out of here.”

She calls to Marcus to keep an eye on her, and looks around until she sees a keyring hanging from a nail near the door. Picking it up, she heads out to the shed. When she gets the shed door open, she finds a young man in a pastel polo shirt and dirty khaki cargo shorts, balled up in a corner with shackles binding his wrists.

“Oh God, am I next?” he cries, and he pisses himself.

Frowning in distaste, Rebecca slowly approaches him, hands extended. “I’m here to help you get out. After I get the shackles off you, I need you to go to the main cabin. There’s a girl that will need help getting down the mountain. You think you can handle that?”

The young man nods enthusiastically, and holds his wrists out to her; but as soon as he’s free, he pushes Rebecca over and dashes out into the dark, screaming about crazy cults. She dashes after him, but he soon disappears into the woods, the dumbass. If he’s lucky, he’ll actually go in the right direction and find people. After a quick sweep of the shed, she goes back to the cabin.

Inside, Marcus is checking over the girl to see how much blood she’s lost. Rebecca grabs a scrap of cloth and wipes the vampire blood from her machete. She explains what happened to the guy in the shed, and he curses softly. They need to go, and soon.  

They each take an arm, and balance the girl between them, as they start their trek down the mountain back to Marcus’s hidden truck. They’re about halfway there, when the hear the sound of an engine and see headlights coming up the dirt track. Quickly, they head into the trees, and crouch behind some shrubs. Rebecca holds a hand over the girl’s mouth as she becomes slightly hysterical as the headlights loom closer. They can’t see into the vehicle as it passes, and wait until there’s no more sign of it before setting out once more.

They get as far as the end of the drive before they’re attacked. Holding the girl between them hinders their movements, and soon Rebecca is knocked unconscious.

She wakes up chained to a post, next to the once again hysterical girl. Head throbbing where they knocked her good, she carefully looks around and tries to ignore the twinge in her neck. She can’t find Marcus. Is he dead? Did he get away? It’s dark inside the cabin, but there is some light filtering around the edges of the window coverings. It’s obviously daytime again, but she can’t tell what time it might be.

Looking down, Rebecca can see where blood is staining her shirt from a wound on her neck. Dammit. Looks like she’s become a snack. There’s a rustling from a corner of the cabin, and a thin, weasel-like man emerges from the shadows. The way he holds himself, he’s probably the patriarch of this nest. In one of his hands is an iphone, probably Rebecca’s.

“Amazing devices, these,” he says, his voice reedy. “Even we have adopted the technology. It’s how we knew to return.”

Well that answers that question. Apparently, the vampire in the cabin had a cellphone and called for backup. That means Marcus’ deodorant and air freshener wasn’t as good as he thought.

“Of course,” the vampire continues, brushing a hand through his thin, limp brown hair, "we couldn’t be sure until we found one of our prizes waving at us madly and shouting about having been kidnapped by a crazy cult.”

He laughs, dry and raspy. “Eddie took care of him for me, didn’t you?”

There’s a grunt from a pile of blankets along the wall. Rebecca has the sneaking suspicion that frat boy is dead. The vampire goes on, complaining about killing Fred. Fred must have been the one she decapitated last night. Or maybe they got another one before getting captured?

“But no matter, we have an excellent replacement, one trained in the art of deception, combat, and stealth.”

A sound from behind her has her twisting to try to see, but she can make out a pained grunt. Another vampire drags Marcus to where she can see him. There’s a sticky and clotted would at his temple, and he looks disoriented. Even in the low light, she can tell there’s something wrong with his eyes. Marcus glances up, and as soon as he sees the blood staining her shirt, those eyes focus. Oh no, they turned him.

The head vamp says there’s no need for the other girl, and has the vampire restraining Marcus lead him to her, and the poor girl's hysterics ramp up a notch. There’s nothing Rebecca can do but fight against her restraints as she watches Marcus’ new teeth descend.

“And if you’re good, we just might turn your girlfriend as well.”

Huh, that’s what he thinks? No use telling them otherwise. Although Rebecca would rather bite her own tongue off and bleed to death than get turned into a vampire. Marcus gives her a look, apology in his eyes, before he gives into the bloodlust and latches onto the girl. He drinks long after the girl stops struggling, and the other vampire pulls him off of her lifeless body. Marcus pulls back and sits on his heels. Red smears his lips, his eyelids hooded from whatever high vamps get from drinking blood.

“That’s a good boy. Now,” the patriarch turns back to Rebecca, “Let’s deal with our princess. Are you a hunter too?”

She turns her head away, but he grabs her chin and makes her face him. “Hmmm… I’d say so, considering how you’ve handled all this. Perhaps you’d be a good addition to our nest as well.”

The vampire goes on to complain about how difficult it was to try and find suitable housing for his fledgling nest. Apparently, he’s been wandering for a while, alone after a group of hunters wiped out his original nest a few months ago. The entire time, his fingertips trace Rebecca’s features, and it makes her empty stomach turn. She looks away, and down at Marcus. He’s recovering from his blood high, and if she didn’t know better, she’d think he was plotting something.

There’s a burst of movement, and suddenly Marcus is standing over his sire’s decapitated body, dripping machete in his hand. He winks at her before rushing over to hack at the vampire tangled up in blankets along the wall. The vampire that had restrained him earlier is standing in front of Rebecca, his back facing her. She calls out, “Catch!” and brings up her feet to kick him right at Marcus, who slices his head off cleanly.

As soon as the last vampire is dead, Marcus drops the blade and falls to his knees, staring at his vampire-blood stained hands. She needs him to focus before he gives onto his bloodlust again and ends her, or worse yet, decides to turn her.

“Hey, you gonna help a girl out? Damsel in distress and all.”

He looks up at her for a moment before he focuses and hops to his feet. There’s a moment she’s sure he’s going to bite her as he loosens the chains, but he turns away.

“You know you can’t leave me like this, right?” His voice sounds broken.

“Yeah, I know,” she whispers.

Marcus pulls out a small vial of something out of his boot. He unscrews it and knocks it back grimacing and curling up on himself. Did he just drink dead man’s blood?

“Do it, while I’m still weak.”

Rebecca has to look away when she brings the machete down across Marcus’ neck. She doesn’t even look around the room as she stumbles out into the bright sunlight. It’s all too much, they saved nobody. And lost a good hunter.

After dosing the whole place with fuel from the boat, she sets it ablaze. She drives the SUV, unhitched from the boat, down to the bottom of the gated drive. She’d gathered their things from the tree blind, and piles it all into Marcus’ truck before navigating it out of its hiding spot and heading down the mountain. There are sirens approaching by the time she reaches a main road, and several trucks pass her by as she makes her way along the highway.

By the time she makes it back to the motel, she’s exhausted, and she cries in the shower as she washes dirt and blood from her body. With the help of a stiff drink and a pill, she sleeps like the dead.

The next day, she calls the hunter who arranged for Marcus to come, and explains the situation. She’s going to leave his truck in a place that should be left alone for a couple of days, so someone can collect it. All the extra gear she’d purchased will be in it as well, since she can’t take it with her across the border.

When she arrives at the small train station, she’s in a long, thin dress, a light sweater covering the bruises on her arms, a floral scarf hiding the bandaged bite on her neck. Nothing exciting happens during her trip home, and she stops at a small diner after arriving back in Vancouver. In Marcus’s honor, she orders french toast and chokes it down.

Over the next week, she heals up, and learns her lines for the next episode of Dr. sexy, M.D. By the time she’s to be on set, it only takes a little extra makeup to cover the healing wound, and she concocts a story about bathing a friend’s less than friendly cat. After a couple days of shooting, she’s off again for the next couple of episodes.

During the interim, she auditions for a role in a new show called Reaper. It’s apparently about some guy whose parents sold him to the devil, and he’s supposed to gather souls for him. And it’s supposed to be a comedy. How fitting, she thinks, as she looks over the lines she’ll be reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Character designed from requested specifications.
> 
> Comments, as always, are lovely! Do I need to tag something? Let me know!


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